Last night, we watched Granddaughter #1 perform with her high school band at their last concert of the season. The band was divided into three separate groups: the main orchestra, a woodwind ensemble, and a jazz band.
The gym was packed (our granddaughter, alone, had eight fans in attendance), so I wore a mask, both to protect myself and to protect those around me from this nasty cold that is still hanging on. Our son had saved us some seats next to him and his family. Even The Little Rotten Baby was there, migrating from lap to lap. She had trouble recognizing me behind the mask, so when she made her way near me, I briefly pulled the mask down so that she would know who I was. When I put the mask back in place, she reached over, hooked a tiny finger under the mask, and pulled; it shot the mask into the lap of the lady sitting in front of me. The LRB thought this was hilarious, cackled out loud, and tried to do it again. And again.
The jazz band was the last act. As they were setting up, I managed to get Granddaughter #1's attention. Using signs and body language, I let her know that when the jazz band cranked up, Poppi and I intended to get up and dance. She shook her head and mouthed, "Nooooooooo." I nodded, "Yep. We are."
I was not familiar with the jazz band's first song, "That's Not My Dog," but well knew the next two songs, James Brown's "I Got You (I Feel Good)" and Sly & The Family Stone's "Dance to the Music." That final number was the perfect song, eh?
As the jazz band played, every now and then, Granddaughter would glance over at us to make sure we were behaving. When the director took the podium for "Dance to the Music," I stood up, whipped off my jacket, and flung it down on the seat beside me as if I was preparing to bust a move. Granddaughter's eyes went wide with alarm, and she mouthed, "NOOOOOOOOOO!" again.
Hah!
I love messing with the grandchildren. :)
For the record, we spared her - and ourselves - the embarrassment.
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